Chapter 31
SEBASTIAN
The family dinner had been perfect. I didn’t want to admit how much I missed our usual Sunday dinner last week. My family drove me crazy and we argued like crazy, but I loved them. They were mine. And when push came to shove, they would have my back.
We all gathered at a private beachside restaurant. Being on a tropical island just made it all the better. How could you snipe and bitch at each other with such an amazing backdrop?
The biggest news of all was from Elizabeth, who finally told everyone the family would be getting a little bigger. Adrian had been happier than I had ever seen him, and Mom immediately started suggesting names.
After all that excitement, our dinner conversation covered approximately eighty-two topics, including Dad. We always wound up talking about him at one point or another. Usually, it came up when we talked about the business, the legacy, and most importantly, the future.
With a new Blackwell on the way, the future was here.
Everyone had praised the campaign so far. Adrian had reviewed some of the early shots. Briggs had looked over the contracts and permits—all in order. Even Dash, who usually found something to criticize, had admitted the behind-the-scenes content was generating serious buzz.
“You’ve done good work here, Sebastian,” Adrian said, raising his glass. “Really good work.”
Mom had fussed over all of us, but especially me. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Your father would be too.”
Walking away from that dinner, I felt like I was glowing. Like for the first time in my life, I was rising to the level my father would have expected. The level my family needed.
I wasn’t just the pretty boy. They actually looked at me like I had value to add. Like I was an important part of the company. It only took thirty-five years.
There was only one person I wanted to share my excitement with. One person who would understand why it was such a big day.
My Little Bee.
I pulled out my phone and texted her: Can we talk? I want to celebrate with you.
The message showed as delivered. Then read.
But no response came.
Weird.
I tried again: Everything okay?
Read.
Bubbles.
And then nothing.
What the hell?
I thought back to the last time I talked to her. It was right after the shoot. Oh shit.
I had basically ignored her when my family showed up. We all went off to dinner and I never said a word to her. That was a dick move and explained why I was being ignored.
Me: Can I see you? Would love to celebrate the shoot.
I was left unread.
I walked back toward my bungalow, the warm night air doing nothing to ease the growing knot in my stomach. I fucked up this afternoon. I knew I had. The way I introduced her to my family like she was just another contractor instead of the woman I was in love with.
I had dismissed her. I couldn’t even say when she walked away. I’d been too caught up talking to my family. But I had introduced her without thinking about it. She was the insurance rep after all.
What was I supposed to say? “As you all expected, I couldn’t keep it in my pants for two weeks, and this is the insurance rep I’ve been sleeping with.”
Bernadette would have been pissed if I said that in front of my mother. In front of Adrian, who was already skeptical about me mixing business with pleasure. Not to mention Briggs, who loved rules more than he loved me.
I had chosen the safe option. And hurt her in the process. I wasn’t good at the whole feelings thing. I had never really had to consider the feelings of the women I was sleeping with. It was careless and selfish. I could see that now, but in the moment, it didn’t occur to me.
Some of the crew had gathered outside their bungalows, celebrating the end of the shooting phase. Music played from someone’s Bluetooth speaker. Bottles clinked. Laughter echoed across the resort grounds. A couple people were dancing.
Normally, I would have been right there with them. Back when I was just a model, I would have been the life of the party. Drinking, flirting, and probably looking for a cute local girl or one of the models to spend the night with.
But now, there was only one woman I wanted to see. Only one person I wanted to celebrate with. And she wasn’t answering my texts.
I needed to talk to her. I was going to tell her how I felt.
She needed to know that I wanted more. I needed more.
Maybe we would have to wait until we were back in the city to make it official.
Could that be her issue and why she kept running away from me?
It had to be a conflict of interest for her to date a client, right?
I was in love with her, and it was time she knew.
I heard laughter and my head snapped toward the sound. I didn’t have to look to see who it was. I would know that musical sound anywhere.
Bernadette.
She was with a group of crew members, holding a plastic cup in her hand.
Judging by her flushed cheeks and the laughter I had never heard before, I was guessing she’d had more than one drink.
She seemed relaxed. I’d seen her look like that exactly two times before—right after I gave her some amazing orgasms.
Her hair was still down from the photoshoot, and she was wearing one of those sundresses that was way too sexy for her to be wearing in mixed company. She looked beautiful. And drunk.
Rico, one of the backup photographers, a guy I’d never particularly liked, was standing way too close to her.
He was sizing her up. He was stripping her with his eyes and I had every intention of removing his eyeballs with a spoon.
Okay. No. That was gross. But dammit, I did want to punch him until his eyes were too swollen to see.
I started walking over, telling myself to stay calm. I couldn’t go all caveman. I knew that would piss her off and Rico would just file a complaint and probably end up suing my ass.
So, I would be good.
I hung back. Something told me I needed to be on standby. Maybe it was experience with the guy. I was pretty sure he slept with more models than I had. He was good at his job, but he was an asshole. People worked with him because when he was behind the camera, he did his job well.
I shouldn’t have brought him. There were hundreds of photographers I could have used. Bringing him to a quiet island with a bunch of women was a bad idea. Of course he was going to hit on any and all of them, including mine.
Walk away, Sebastian. She’s a big girl.
If she wanted to talk to me, she would. I needed to let her have her moment. She was pissed at me and needed me to know it. I wouldn’t call it a tantrum, but she was certainly putting me in my place.
Then I heard what he was saying.
“Come on, beautiful. Just a few more pictures. In my bungalow. The lighting’s better there. More private.”
His hand was on her waist. She was laughing, but she looked uncomfortable. And nervous.
I had seen plenty of women in clubs that listened to their intuition. They always knew when a guy was skeevy. Sometimes they listened to that little voice and sometimes they didn’t. It was up to the good guys to look out for the women and protect them from the assholes.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. She smiled to lessen the blow.
“Just think of it as extending the shoot. You were so good today. Natural. I could make you look even better.”
Something in me snapped. I crossed the remaining distance in three strides and grabbed Rico by the shoulder, spinning him around.
“Back off,” I said, my voice coming out low and dangerous.
“Hey, man, we’re just talking.”
“You’re done talking. Get the fuck away from her.”
“Sebastian.” Bernadette tried to settle me, but I wasn’t listening.
Rico shoved me. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m the guy telling you to keep your hands off her.”
“She’s not your property, Blackwell.” He shoved me again, harder, but it barely budged me. I shoved back. Then he took a swing and connected with my jaw, and all rational thought evaporated.
I swung back. Connected with his nose. Heard the satisfying crunch.
We grappled, falling into the grass, and each of us threw a couple more punches. People were shouting but I ignored all of it. Hands pulled at us, trying to separate us.
Then I heard it. Sirens.
“Shit, the cops are coming!”
“Someone called the police!”
We were finally pulled apart, both of us breathing hard. Blood dripped from Rico’s nose. My knuckles were scraped raw. And Bernadette stood frozen, her face pale, her eyes wide with shock.
Two Miratoan police officers arrived, taking in the scene with stern expressions. It was bad. Really, really bad.
They separated us, asking questions. What happened. Who started it. Were there any witnesses.
“This is a peaceful island,” one officer said. “We don’t tolerate violence. Especially from tourists who think rules don’t apply to them.”
“He started it,” Rico said, pointing at me. “I was just talking to the lady and he attacked me.”
“That’s not—” I started, but the officer held up a hand.
“We’ll interview everyone separately. You.” He pointed at me. “Come with me.”
I looked at Bernadette. Tried to catch her eye. Tried to silently apologize.
But she wouldn’t look at me. Just stood there, pale and mortified, staring at the ground.
They escorted me back to my bungalow while they interviewed Rico and the crew. I was told to stay put and they’d be back to talk to me. I sat alone on my bed in the dark with reality crashing down around me.
I’d just confirmed every fear my brothers had ever had about me. I just gave them the ammunition they needed to prove I was irresponsible. They were going to say I let my dick—or in this case, my feelings—compromise the entire production.
One strike. That was all it took in Miratoa. One violation of their strict rules and they could shut down the entire campaign. They could revoke our permits for the runway show. Millions of dollars down the drain.
Elizabeth’s designs, the crew’s hard work, all of it jeopardized because I couldn’t control myself for five seconds.
I destroyed whatever might have been happening with Bernadette. I ruined it before it even get started.
My phone buzzed.
Snack Buddy: What happened? Are you okay? Do you need to talk?
Elizabeth. Of course she’d already heard. News traveled fast on an island this small.
I typed back with shaking hands: I fucked everything up.
The three dots appeared immediately: I’m coming over.
Me: No. Stay with Adrian. I’ll be fine.
Snack Buddy: Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone.
Me: I’m good. I would prefer to be alone. But thank you.
Then I turned off my phone and lay in the dark, listening to the sound of the ocean and the distant sound of the crew still celebrating.
Tomorrow was going to be a shitstorm. It wasn’t the legal fallout I was worried about. My mom would be disappointed, but she was still my mom. My brothers, on the other hand, were going to destroy me. I could feel it coming.